


Spirit-Touched

by punknerdmusings



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Lu Ten (Avatar) Lives, Lu Ten Zuko and Azula are here too, Ozai-centric, They're just minor characters, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 02:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punknerdmusings/pseuds/punknerdmusings
Summary: He’s spirit-touched, the palace whispered.He should have died along with his mother.
Relationships: Azulon & Ozai (Avatar), Iroh & Ozai (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Spirit-Touched

_He’s spirit-touched_ , the palace whispered. _He should have died along with his mother_. And indeed, Azulon’s second son is born weak, without the spark. He didn’t even cry as his mother gave her last gasp, his eyes closed and looking for all the world like he was stillborn. But large golden eyes blinked up at the midwife who had been about to wrap him in a shroud, brighter than any of the royal family, alive or recently deceased. The still-unnamed prince was given to his brother to hold, Iroh staring down curiously at the small lump in his arms. The newborn just stared right back with those unnerving eyes, ones that reminded Iroh of stories of dragons. And still, his brother did not cry. The midwives looked at him askance, starting to whisper among themselves about just how unnatural the birth was. Ilah was far beyond childbearing age, and indeed, she had failed to make it, but her child, who looked as weak as her, was still breathing.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , the nobles whispered. _No child is that keen_. Ozai, named so as Ilah’s dying wish, had her sleek black hair and his father’s slim build. He could, at the tender age of seven, pick out a lie from even the most prolific of weasels, and had an almost supernatural sense for what would get the liar to spill the truth. When asked how he had found this skill, he would simply shrug and assert that anyone could do what he did. The child would then launch into an explanation of the patterns only his eyes could see, adults exchanging looks over his head. It wasn’t long before he sat, smugly, at Azulon’s right hand during important meetings, giving secret signals whenever a noble or a general would lie. His golden eyes glowed when they were punished, a hungry smile on his face.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , the servants whispered. _Even in his rage, not a single thing burns_. Like his brother and father, he was a firebender; however it seemed to him as if Agni had been half-asleep on the day of his birth. At eleven, his flame was weaker than his brother’s had been at seven, or his father’s at four. This was often the source of his anger guttering out of control, fire swirling around him, consuming curtains and furnishings without so much as leaving them warm. Whereas Iroh’s tantrums at the same power level had burned an entire room down, Ozai had a grip of steel over his flames even at their wildest. No firebender had such razor control at mastery, let alone as a child.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , his tutors whispered. _A prodigy at any art he touches_. The most unsettling of his paintings was a perfect rendition of Ilah in her youth. Something the fifteen year old prince should not have known how to paint. Every little detail was correct, down to a scar that Fire Lord Azulon had even forgotten was there until the art had jogged his memory. His face had turned hard, and his amber eyes (several shades duller than the eyes of the child in front of him, where had Ozai gotten them?) were burning as he demanded to know who had described the woman in Ozai’s painting. She had come to the prince in a dream, promising him she would always be with him. That he was destined for great things. Azulon didn’t look away as blue fire consumed the artwork, and only Iroh cried out in dismay. Ozai’s face just hardened and he turned around, leaving without a dismissal.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , the crew whispered. _Good fortune follows him anywhere_. Every port they docked at, Ozai could squeeze supplies out of. He laughed at his crew’s nonsense, he had stopped believing that there was anything special about him a decade ago. And he was doomed to spend the next three years at sea, hopelessly searching for something that didn’t exist any more. Spending your twentieth birthday drinking wasn’t uncommon, except for princes who wondered if his father even threw him absentia parties like he did Iroh. Ozai knocked back bottle after bottle that night, and the night devolved into half the crew nursing burns as the prince stormed off, unsatisfied with how nobody else could hold a candle to him. He guessed those days and nights he spent skipping everything but the quickest meals and the briefest naps had paid off. Just not soon enough. His brother had killed the last dragon, and left nothing for his younger brother. They still said Ozai’s eyes were like dragon’s in the palace, and now he would never see for himself if that was true.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , his father whispered. _I have never even heard of that much skill_. The smell of lightning hung in the air as Ozai returned to a neutral position, his brother in as much awe as his father. Both of them could summon lightning, all royal firebenders could, but Ozai had summoned it faster than the prodigy and the bender with ten years of mastery on him. Azulon and Iroh exchanged a cryptic glance that the twenty-six year old missed, too focused on his firebending practice. Ozai’s skill with fire may have started weak and unassuming, but he had surpassed them both in their prime. He was a dangerous tool, now. Perhaps he could be used.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , his brother whispered. _No harm will come to Uncle Ozai_. Lu Ten was worried about his uncle. He reminded Iroh so much of himself, of his mother and father, of Ozai himself. When Iroh had gone to his younger brother, grieving over the loss of his wife, Ozai had looked at Lu Ten with something akin to understanding. And now his baby brother was off on the battlefield. Although he supposed Ozai wasn’t young any more. He had his own wife, a lady of the court whose bloodline was twice esteemed. Ursa was not just any normal noble, but Avatar Roku’s granddaughter. Iroh wondered if Ozai remembered the stories of how their grandfather had been friends with the Avatar, once upon a time.

_He was spirit-touched_ , his nephew whispered. _This shouldn’t have happened_. Lu Ten’s voice shook as he called out to Ozai, who had just been buried under tons of rock. He had shoved his nephew mostly out of the way, one final, ominous rock having landed on his leg. But even after he freed himself, he kneeled next to the avalanche’s result, one hand pressed to the rock as dusk fell. When General Iroh called off the siege, and Lu Ten had to face his aunt and cousins, leg casted and leaning on crutches, he broke down sobbing. Fire Lord Azulon held a funeral, and that was the end of his second son.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , the soldiers whispered. _He should have died along with that boy_. But the golden-eyed firebender was very much alive, dragged out of the rubble and carted off to Ba Sing Se. The Dai Li knew what they had in their hands, until the interrogation of the prince failed. Every question they asked, his mouth would open to answer, and no sound would come out. He seemed as aggrieved by this outcome as the agents were, settling for glaring at them any time they probed him for answers. They soon tired of him, and threw him out onto the street. Ozai was forced to beg, hating every second of it, until a man stopped, offering him a job at the tea shop across the street. He may have hated every second, dreaming of taking Ba Sing Se and going home, but it kept him from dying of starvation. And after the first few near-burns of customers when they made fun of poor old Lee, Pao herded him back to the kitchen, making tea instead of serving it. He slept above the shop, and his speech improved just enough to communicate basic ideas. And eventually, even the dreams of going home faded as he realized his brother thought him dead.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , his son whispered. _He’s spirit-touched and alive_. It was the end of a war that only he had known about in the city, and his children stood in front of him. His nephew. His brother. He haltingly asked after their father, after his wife, and when he found out that the Avatar had defeated one and the other had disappeared after him, he finally allowed himself to cry. He allowed himself to grieve his own death, the end of the life he had known and then the end of this one, alone until his brother wrapped warm arms around him and whispered meaningless comforts. They left for the palace after that, him explaining as best he could on the train what had gone wrong, why he could no longer communicate. Azula snubbed him, Zuko looked at him with pity. Lu Ten still looked like he was seeing a ghost. It was only the new Fire Lord that laid a hand on his shoulder and told him they would figure it out.

_He’s spirit-touched_ , his men whispered. _And we would die for him_. Iroh had given him a job away from paperwork that he couldn’t sign and meetings he couldn’t discuss at. Instead, he and Iroh talked over tea every night, his brother always patient. Instead, he ran the imperial guard, the first of royal blood to do so in generations. Azula had protested for him, but he had accepted the position gracefully. Ozai had the opportunity to keep his instructions short and clipped, and respect here was earned by fighting prowess and battle scars. And here, none had a more impressive track record in war than the prince who had come back from the dead, who had earned his unofficial dragon title even more than his brother. He even found love, again, in the most unexpected of places. Someone who accepted him, flaws and all. Ozai would not have thought it possible, when he was a child being whispered about, but here he was regardless. Happy, for the first time in his life.


End file.
